


Lipstick

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Desk Sex, Exhibitionism, F/F, Oral Sex, Vanilla, fem magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Korra convinces Asami to mess around at work, but things don't go according to plan.





	Lipstick

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please follow me on tumblr @raedmagdon for more.

Korra’s nails scrabble over the thick wooden desk as Asami teases her clit with little licks of fire. Her heart throbs between her legs and her lungs burn from lack of air, but she can’t keep her hips from rocking forward. She needs more—more of Asami’s mouth, more of that wickedly swirling tongue.

 _“Fuck,”_ she grunts, reaching down to fist Asami’s thick black hair in both hands. It’s both too much, and not enough. She’s so close to coming, close enough to see little white starbursts floating around the edges of her eyes, but she doesn’t want to tip over the edge. She wants to savor this, especially the sight of Asami on her knees.

It’s not the way Asami’s neat red blouse is rumpled, unbuttoned to reveal the black lace bra beneath. It’s not the way her tight pink nipples poke out over the pulled-down cups, or the purple marks Korra has left around them. It’s her face: that painfully gorgeous face, maroon lipstick smudged, dark mascara running, green eyes swimming.

“So beautiful,” Korra rasps, not even thinking about the words. They fall from her lips unbidden, but they’re absolutely true. Asami is the most beautiful creature she has ever seen. Part of her still can’t believe this woman wants her.

With a groan of effort, she removes her hands from Asami’s silky locks, bringing them back to the desk. If she keeps tugging, she’ll get greedy and come too fast, grinding herself against Asami’s chin instead of letting the waves break over her naturally. Asami, however, seems almost disappointed. She whimpers, a sound that sends vibrations straight through Korra’s core.

“Ah—Asami!” Korra’s hands sweep over the surface of the desk, bumping into the telephone and knocking off several files. Asami doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she’s decided not to care. She latches onto Korra’s clit and sucks, circling it over and over, and Korra shouts to the ceiling.

“Yes… _yes._ Harder, ‘Sami—suck me harder, just like that…”

Asami sucks harder, still lashing her tip with sharp little licks, staring straight up at her with those soft, innocent green eyes. The dark lines of teary mascara run further down her flushed cheeks, and Korra guesses it’s because she _isn’t breathing_ except once in a while through her nose when she can manage to sneak in a gasp. She’s intently focused on her task, and Korra finds herself struggling to fight off her inevitable peak.

She tries to form words, perhaps a warning that she’s close, but all that comes out in a muffled “Mmhh…” as the blunt edges of Asami’s teeth press against the root of her clit. It’s not quite a bite, but it adds a little extra pressure—enough pressure to make Korra’s head spin. Her inner walls clench, beginning to flutter.

 _Make… make me… “_ Make me come,” she growls, jerking her hips forward.

Asami’s tongue swirls one last time and Korra is lost. She shouts Asami’s name to the ceiling, hoping the heavy office door is as soundproof as it looks, because there’s no way she can possibly stay quiet. Not when Asami’s lips are sealed so tight around her. Not when Asami is looking up at her with those glittering green eyes.

Only when the rush of rippling heat finally stops does Korra realize how exhausted she is. She’s trembling, bearing most of her weight on her hands, struggling not to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Asami places one last kiss on her twitching clit, then withdraws, licking her lips. Her lipstick, usually so perfectly outlined, is a mess, and her chin is covered in dripping fluid. “How was that?” she asks, although her smirk tells Korra it’s a rhetorical question.

Korra gapes for a few moments before she’s able to answer. “I… I don’t know if I can move,” she stammers, her growl turning into an exhausted whine. She can’t remember the last time Asami has made her come so hard, and she’s incredibly grateful she managed to talk her lover into fooling around during the afternoon lunch break…

“—Sato? Miss Sato? Can you hear me?”

At first, Korra isn’t entirely sure where the voice is coming from. Only when it keeps talking does she realize the source: the telephone, which has fallen off its hook thanks to her flailing. More unfortunate still, the heel of her hand is planted firmly on the intercom button.

Korra almost swears, but then she realizes whoever’s on the other end—probably Asami’s secretary—will hear _that_ too, which is the last thing she wants. Instead, she yanks her hand away as if she’s been burned and gives Asami a horrified, apologetic look.

A few tense moments pass. Then, after what feels like forever, Asami laughs. More tears run from her eyes, but this time she wipes them away with her hand.

Once Korra realizes the laugh is accompanied by a smile, she laughs too, shaking her head. “I’m s—so sorry,” she snorts, trying and failing to stop the heaving of her stomach. Between the laughter and the orgasm, her abdominal muscles are aching.

“It’s fine,” Asami mumbles amidst breathless giggles. And even though it isn’t fine, Korra can’t help but see the humor in the situation. At the very least, it will make an entertaining story, although she doubts she’ll ever be able to look Asami’s secretary in the eye again.

After far too long, Asami finally stops laughing and picks up the phone with her cleaner hand. Unlike her makeup, which is running everywhere, her dark red manicure is still perfect. “I’ll be out in a moment,” she says through the intercom, then spends the next few seconds trying to fix the birdsnest that is her hair. She produces a pocket mirror and a tissue from somewhere—Korra has no idea where she stores half the things she carries, since her outfits are so clingy—and begins blotting her face.

“Sorry,” Korra says, although she really isn’t. As much as she hates to admit it, there’s something _hot_ about Asami wearing that freshly fucked look, messy instead of perfect.

“We’re going to have a talk about this later,” Asami says, but she’s still smiling. “I need to go apologize to my secretary… and probably offer her a raise. You pull your pants up.”

Looking much neater, although still delightfully disheveled, Asami leaves the room, the scent of her perfume lingering for a moment longer than she does.

Korra sighs and pulls up her pants, flopping into Asami’s chair.

“Worth it,” she says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling.


End file.
